The Forest
Aug 12, 2007 13:17:44 GMT -5
Post by Erik Carriere on Aug 12, 2007 13:17:44 GMT -5
Erik looked up from his book. He was reading poems by William Blake. He felt he could really connect to Blake's poems. Erik turned to a random page and was pleased. It was his favorite poem ever.
My mother bore me in the southern wild
I live in darkness but my soul is light
Light as the forehead of an English child
But I'm in darkness and bereaved of light
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day
She took me in her lap and kissed me
And, pointing to the East, began to say:
Look upon the rising sun, there God does live
And gives his light and heat away
And all the trees and flowers and beasts and men receive
Their comfort from the morning through the bright noonday
And we are put on earth a little space
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
and these poor bodies, and this wretched face
Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
For when our souls have learned the heat to bear
The clouds will vanish, we will hear his voice
Saying, come out from the grove my love and care
And round my golden tents like lambs rejoice
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me
And thus I say to little English boy
When we are both from light and dark clouds free
And round the tent of God we both rejoice...
((Yes...technically this IS a slight re-wording of Blake's The Little Black Boy, BUT moving on.))
"Where are my golden tents?" wondered Erik aloud, in an almost impatient voice. He got up from where he was sitting and decided he might so some haunting. He had to keep his image up, after all.
My mother bore me in the southern wild
I live in darkness but my soul is light
Light as the forehead of an English child
But I'm in darkness and bereaved of light
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day
She took me in her lap and kissed me
And, pointing to the East, began to say:
Look upon the rising sun, there God does live
And gives his light and heat away
And all the trees and flowers and beasts and men receive
Their comfort from the morning through the bright noonday
And we are put on earth a little space
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
and these poor bodies, and this wretched face
Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
For when our souls have learned the heat to bear
The clouds will vanish, we will hear his voice
Saying, come out from the grove my love and care
And round my golden tents like lambs rejoice
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me
And thus I say to little English boy
When we are both from light and dark clouds free
And round the tent of God we both rejoice...
((Yes...technically this IS a slight re-wording of Blake's The Little Black Boy, BUT moving on.))
"Where are my golden tents?" wondered Erik aloud, in an almost impatient voice. He got up from where he was sitting and decided he might so some haunting. He had to keep his image up, after all.